


White noise

by tselina



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Bossy Bottom Charles, Drinky Drinks, Fast and Loose (Ha Ha!), M/M, period-typical smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-15 23:13:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15423765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tselina/pseuds/tselina
Summary: Now, though, he was itching for a drink, and maybe, perhaps, a friendly encounter of his own. Which was going to be a battle, in this place, and in the ever-perilous climate. But the bar was familiar, and so new faces stood out to him.One in particular, tonight, was very stunning.An alternative take on Charles and Erik meeting for the first time. Takes place in an ambiguous time before XMFC. PWP-ish one-shot just for fun.--Do not read if you're not of legal age in your country. Thanks!





	White noise

**Author's Note:**

> No real warnings, just smut and a whiff of topping-from-the-bottom Charles. Playing fast and loose with movie canon, added some ideas for some of Charles's studies, so forgive any errors. Enjoy!

The night was going well, Charles thought, as his new drinking partner pushed him up against the wall of their rented room. Very well indeed.

It was not something he had expected, going to the bar that night. It was just your average pub, the only assured clientele that of the students in nearby flops, and most of them with pocket-money from their parents to spare. Charles was one of those boys, though not in a flop, but a flat that he and his sister rented together. Raven had company over that night of the female persuasion, and Charles found it prudent to give her the space and time to enjoy it without him lazing around in the adjoining room.

The girl was a transfer student, soon to go home, a lovely lady named Sabine. If Charles's taste ran even remotely female, he would have fallen for her as quickly as Raven had: deep colored skin, dark curling hair, and the rather unique feature of heterochromia -- one brown eye, one blue eye. When the siblings had met her, he'd given her his "everyone's a mutant" routine to have her run into Raven's arms. It was too bad the pick-up was so poorly received. He liked it, honestly, as much as he liked sharing all kinds of informative tidbits and educational pleasantries.

Now, though, he was itching for a drink, and maybe, perhaps, a friendly encounter of his own. Which was going to be a battle, in this place, and in the ever-perilous climate. But the bar was familiar, and so new faces stood out to him.

One in particular, tonight, was very stunning.

His eyes were the first thing that Charles noticed. They were blue-green -- nearly as bright as his own -- lashes long beneath a strong brow, brown hair curling and coiffed to the side in a neat, gentlemanly manner. He was shaven. His cheeks might have well been chiseled from marble, sharp and strong. His mouth pursed nicely, a cigarette in the bow of it with a lazy grace. His clothing was impeccable, perfectly pressed, but not too stuffy for the venue. An aristocrat in plainclothes, it seemed. Charles felt a flush take him, and he decided to go in for the drink first, to loosen up.

There was a small crowd, here, after the dining hours. It was enough for Charles to safely approach the striking stranger for space beside him, beer in hand and a smile on his face.

"Hello," he said. "Mind if I join you?"

The man glanced at him coolly. He was younger than Charles had expected, now seeing his face up close. He had a sleepy look that only made him appear more haughty, handsome.

"I don't mind," he said.

"Fantastic." Charles hopped down, inhaling, trying to hold back the bubbling energy that was building inside him. There may _not_ be a potential encounter with this particular man, but the anticipation of getting to know someone was always a thrilling process for Charles. He knew that some people weren't immediately fond of his excitable nature, so he had to play it cool.

"Here on business, or school?"

"Business," the man said. "Though I have thought to stop by the university, to see the grounds."

"Lovely place, though I'm quite biased," Charles said, keeping himself from stumbling over his words. He sipped his beer, making a light smacking noise of appreciation. "What did you get tonight? The bitter is nice, but I'm always fond of a cider myself."

"Ah," the man said, turning his empty mug over. Charles tapped his temple, very briefly skimming the man's mind, getting a jumble of German for the trouble. It wasn't a drink preference, but it was a talking point, later.

"I'll try the bitter," he said.

"Bartender, one more for this gentlemen here," Charles tilted his head, knowing just how to make the curls fall in his eyes, how his mouth needed to purse.

"I'm Charles Xavier," he said, rolling his shoulders, moving just a fraction closer. "It's always nice to see a new face around."

The man hesitated very briefly, reading Charles's body language for what it was. He didn't move away, however -- a small, thrilling victory.

"Erik," he said.

They shook. Charles had to make sure to put up all his walls before they did, just to make sure his heart would beat out of his throat. The man smelled as he should up close: good cigarettes, leather, fine aftershave. Under it: the unmistakable scent of man. Charles took a long sip of his beer.

"Come in from the mainland?" Charles asked, finger gently brushing his brow to skim the man's mind again. Images of flights, of voices in foreign language, muddled from half-memories. "From France. I hear it's been a bit stormy there, as of late."

Erik's strong brow knitted. His voice was still the same volume, but there was a little alarm there. "How did you know?"

"My secret," Charles said, showing his teeth. "Or I'm just a good guess. No, really, you're just a little too Milan for the place. Look at the rest of us. Our sweater vests and floppy hair."

"Are you some kind of private investigator?" Erik smiled, a curl of his lips. He'd mostly run down his cigarette and was stubbing it out, and Charles itched for his own to have something to do with his mouth.

"No, no, it's just my bag of tricks for starting pleasant conversations. I appreciate your patience regarding the same."

Erik's smile widened, his eyes slit. "Well, I did need a bit of entertainment, I suppose."

"One wonders what kind of entertainment," Charles said. He tilted his head again.

"Not necessarily the illicit sort," Erik said, sipping his beer. "Perhaps directions to a good meal, a nice boarding house, a promised tour of the grounds?"

Charles's stomach was fluttering with excitement. Hopefully, either the drink would explain his continued flush, or the bar lighting would be low enough to disguise it. "In that order? I can provide all three, for the low price of a cigarette."

Erik laughed. It was a surprised, honest noise, high in his nose. He pulled out his case, knocked two out.

"Shall we light them at the tip, then?" he asked, pulling out the matchbook, striking it.

"Illuminating, after all," Charles said, as Erik lit the cigarette. He took a drag, held it in his lungs, the taste sublime. Erik leaned over to set his cigarette tip-to-tip so that the freshly lit cherry would spark his. It was just the sort of intimacy that Charles liked, little innuendoes that could preclude the kind of scandalous rendezvous he sought. It was normally such a song and dance, and often with older men that were hungry for companionship. Tonight, Charles was the hungry one, and he thought he was doing quite well with disguising some of it. _Most_ of it.

They sat smoking and nursed refills of their beer. Halfway through his cigarette, Erik blew a smoke ring and huffed to catch Charles's attention.

"This night is much nicer than I'd thought," Erik said. "I don't normally come to pubs, so I appreciate you looking out for me."

"Of course," Charles said, grinning. A few beers in, now, he decided to go for it. "Always looking out for my fellow mutants."

Erik went still.

It was an odd reaction: Charles had most people being dismissive or annoyed, but not speechless. He continued, hoping to soften the situation.

"Let me explain," he said, going the route as if he'd offended the man. "You and I -- all of us -- are upright and talking because of evolution. Because of mutation, you see -- all starting from single-celled organisms finding their way to shore through this adaption.”

"And this makes us all mutants," Erik said, evenly. It felt a bit like a challenge, but to what, Charles wasn't sure.

"Well, only a select lucky few, maybe," Charles said, winking. "You, for instance -- your hair, I thought it was brown before I got up here. It's actually touched with auburn; that’s what you’d call it, auburn. I'd call it an expression of a mutated MCR-One gene. It's one 'crazy cool' mutation, in fact -- I have some rather interesting mutations, myself -- my whiskers grow in ginger, even though my hair’s quite brown." He scrubbed his slightly stubbled face for show. "So, one mustn't knock it, being a mutant. Who knows what the future of our kind will bring to the world? I can only see good things, myself. A greater understanding of our limits as a species, and what we can do accepting differences, to grow.”

Something in Erik had shifted, a sense of him that Charles could feel as well as see. He sat a little taller, a little more aloof, but his eyes had grown predatory. Nothing accusing in there, just nakedly interested in Charles, eyes raking him.

"Charles Xavier," Erik said, after adjusting himself in his seat once more. "I think I've heard about you, now I remember. You've given an early talk or two on -- what was it -- the moral obligation towards abolishing eugenics practices in modern medicine?”

"Oh yes, that was for my second year of undergraduate," Charles said, pleased. "I'm surprised anyone has heard anything about those papers.”

"I have an interest in genetics," Erik said, again with that same even calmness. "And mutants, I suppose."

"Well, my step-father got me into the field," Charles said, leaning over now. This close, he could smell the man's breath, felt it coast against his cheeks. "But for myself, I enjoy thinking about a world where people are no longer concerned about those so immensely different than themselves. To help not only -- ah -- mutants, but those that were once considered untouchable by societies at large.”

This seemed to unsettle the man, almost tangible to Charles's surface senses. He changed tracks immediately.

"But enough on that vein," Charles said, propping a hand against his chin, elbow on the bartop. Just enough cheek to be a little precious, not so much to look like a boy. "I'm afraid I like to fill negative space, and I've talked far too much about myself."

"Negative space -- white space -- is very important in art," Erik said delicately, unfolding his handkerchief to dab his mouth.

"I don't know if my chatting you up can be considered art," Charles said, bold now. Erik was showing signs of leaving, and he was anxious to see if this conversation would take its course in the right direction. "A fashionable gent like yourself might be able to give me a few pointers, though?"

Erik side-eyed him, one brow raising.

"I think I'm a bit tired right now to be teaching a class," the other man said, folding and pocketing his kerchief. "How about tomorrow morning?"

"Only if I've got a study session between now and then," Charles answered.

Erik debated the proposition very visibly. Even if he hadn't been slightly intoxicated -- it's possible he'd been drinking before Charles had noticed him -- his mouth firming every so often in deep thought was evidence enough.

"I hope you're an attentive student," Erik said, standing and nodding towards the coat racks. "You have a library we can hole ourselves up in?"

"Not that isn't occupied," Charles said, getting to his feet. The height difference was, at his estimate, a delicious fifteen centimeters. His toes curled in his shoes. "But I know a place."

"A quiet one preferred," Erik said, gesturing for Charles to lead.

They took a taxi towards inn was one that Charles had used before for one of his dalliances, and had a good relationship with. The older man man who ran it was a queer as well, and he understood discretion. Charles blew him a kiss as he trailed Erik up the stairwell.

There was the clack of shoes being taken off and the gentle rustle of fabric as the two of them settled in the room, got off their jackets, loosed ties, and Charles looked at the man he'd rather proudly caught in his net that night. Well-defined muscles beneath his crisp white shirt, a Cheshire smile on his pale, well formed face. Sliding his arms around the man's neck was a dream, the warm hands grasping his hips a welcome fantasy. They kissed lightly, tentative little things to understand how their mouths fit, bodies inching closer now. No belts off, not yet, but Charles took advantage of his lesser height to slide his hands into Erik's open shirt to touch his nipples and the impressive set of muscles the man hid there. Erik startled, a brief disrupt of confusion, and Charles flicked his nipples in tandem.

"Don't like it?" Charles asked, pushing up on his toes to bite at Erik's chin. "Or haven't had it done?"

"Ah --" Erik said, looking at Charles strangely. "Neither of those."

"Excellent," Charles said, biting at Erik's adam's apple now, "just let me know if that changes, darling."

Charles began his work again, trailing wet kisses down Erik's breastbone, near his nipples, but not quite touching them. Erik pushed his hands into Charles's hair, clearing his throat, settling on his feet like he was about to take a punch. Charles laughed and shook his head, putting a palm against the man's flat stomach and shoving him near the bed.

"Sit down," he said. "Then we'll be eye-to-eye."

"Ha," Erik said, still looking at Charles oddly as he approached. Charles leaned down to kiss Erik, open-mouthed now, coaxing him into something deeper. Perhaps this was his first time with a man, with him trying his best to be amorous in return, but uncertain as to where to begin.

"Let me," Charles said, stroking Erik's fine cheekbones, feeling a swell of fondness that had nothing to do with the stirrings of arousal. "We've got all night, Erik."

"Yes." Erik rolled up his sleeves just above the wrist and re-situated his seat on the bed. Charles took the opening to cup Erik's face, kissing him again, less deeply to start, trailing his hands down his sides again. He was a bit rougher with the man's nipples, scoring them, and that had the man open his mouth with a little "ah" of surprise. Slowly, Erik began to warm to him, moving those big palms against Charles's back, trying to draw the shorter man to him. Their belt buckles clacked together when Charles slid over Erik's lap, and he moaned honestly as his half-hard cock was jostled in the process.

"That’s very nice," Charles said, nuzzling Erik's temple, now functionally taller. "Thank you, Erik."

"I've not done anything yet," Erik murmured, but he put his nose in the crook of Charles's neck and rubbed it there, resting his mouth against his breastbone. Slowly, his hands roamed Charles's back beneath his open shirt, less hesitant than before.

Charles sighed, leaning back into the touch. "This is plenty," he replied, with relish.

"Surprising," Erik murmured, then pulled Charles down on top of him properly. Charles took the invitation readily, grasping at the stiff strands of Erik's hair, moaning against the other man's cheek as he rolled his hips against Erik's stomach. Erik started work on Charles's buckle, kissing at what he could reach of Charles's face, his chin, his shoulders. Charles plucked at Erik's nipples once more, determined to see what the man actually felt about it: a good mixture of pleased an angry, he found out, when Erik jerked the open belt to grind them together in response.

Charles trembled a little as he propped himself over Erik as the other man finished disrobing Charles down to his briefs and socks. All the potential of this encounter raced through his mind, all the branching pathways to pleasure. He saw the rise and fall of Erik's perfect chest, the white skin scored by Charles's questing fingers and nails, and his gaze trailed down past his navel.

"May I," Charles whispered, finger dragging down towards Erik's navel, touching the hem of his trousers. "I'd very much like to."

"Ah," Erik said, pushing himself up on his elbows. His eyes caught Charles's, brow lifting.

"Unless it's too soon," Charles said, idly beginning to untangle his limbs, lifting a knee to move, when Erik caught his forearm with nearly crushing force.

"No, it’s not," he said, throaty. "You may."

Charles licked his lips, already feeling the weight of Erik on his tongue. He wiggled away, tugging Erik's trouser legs to get him at the side of the bed again. The buckle first, and then those very nice pressed slacks down to his ankles.

"Shall I fold them?" Charles asked, tucking them to his chest briefly as if to start. Erik wrinkled his nose, a small little show of attitude, and swatted at Charles's hair. Charles tossed them to the side where his were, and very purposefully settled himself on his knees before Erik to begin some very pleasant work.

Erik's briefs had remained on because Charles wanted to take them off slowly, to make it part of the act. He kissed Erik's navel, dipping his tongue there, tasting good soap and sweat. He moaned honestly while he went lower, nipping at the elastic waistband and tugging it down with his teeth while also using his hands. Erik's rear lifted off the bed, and Charles kept his mouth close to his prize while he the briefs made it into their pile of fine clothing. He lapped at the soft skin he found, euphoric in with this moment. Every encounter with a man meant something to him -- still clandestine, still a worrisome thing to be cautious about -- but this was the first time he felt he could truly enjoy himself. He'd make the best of it. Erik didn't seem to mind the attention, clearly.

Charles's mouth drew open, his teeth very, very gently grazing the curve of Erik's hard cock to the base of the head. The man was circumcised, which was a novelty -- no foreskin meant that he could get right to the sensitive parts right away. He knew what he must look like on his knees and used it to his advantage, tucking a few of his stray, sweaty curls behind his ear, opening his mouth just wide enough to let in the head of Erik's cock. The taste was exceptional, clean and tangy still with sweat, and he swirled his tongue over the slit, the swollen peak of Erik's need.

Erik's fingers flexed in the sheets, like he wasn't sure he knew what to do with this sudden attention. It didn't seem characteristic of the man that Charles had met at the bar -- not that Charles was at all disappointed.

"You can put those in my hair," Charles suggested, grinning. "Tug all you like."

Erik said something in a guttural dialect that Charles didn't parse. He put his hands in Charles's hair as he was told, and tugged. Charles's body thrilled at the brief rush of pain and pleasure, and he opened his mouth with a grateful moan to begin sucking Erik's cock in earnest. Erik rolled his hips up, not yet paced with need, but Charles hoped to change that. He ran his hands over Erik's thighs, touching ticklish places, thumbing where the man's balls met the thick vein of his cock. Erik began to push Charles's head towards his cock in a few sudden motions, making Charles gag a little -- there was that tell-tale loosening of fingers in his hair, and Charles managed to grab one of Erik's wrists before he took his hands away.

You're not hurting me, he tried to convey without resorting to properly thinking at the man. Keep going.

That was all Erik needed. With permission given, he held Charles's head still, his hips now snapping a sharp, solid rhythm. Not fast, at first, but his thrusts were such that Charles had to brace himself on the man's thighs to keep pace. He was lit up with arousal, loving the sensation of Erik's animal greed filtering into his senses, the taste of him, the bright bursts of good pain.

Erik's body began to tense towards the end, and he growled, yanking Charles's head away.

"Not yet," he said, catching his breath, looking down at Charles -- almost glaring -- as if trying to decipher what they were doing. Charles stood up, fiddling with the one remaining piece of clothing he wore, shrugging his shirt off his shoulders.

"No," Erik said, grabbing at Charles's wrist again. "Leave -- leave it on. It looks -- good."

"All right," Charles said, grinning. "Well? Where do you want me? Gentleman's choice."

Erik palmed at his mouth, looking hard at the walls of the room, the gauze-coated window. It was open to the street, which meant that should they shift too far away from the bed, their playtime would be visible to the pedestrians below.

"You can," Charles said, noticing the look in his eye, his chest tight. "You should."

"Do you --" Erik's red mouth went into a line. "Have --"

"I plan ahead," Charles said. He walked -- sauntered -- towards the coat rack, digging in his inner pocket for the condom and tin of Vaseline. He put the condom wrapper in his mouth and clipped his fingers on the tin, smiling cheekily.

"I did enjoy my smoke, though," he said, around the paper package.

"You can enjoy one after," Erik said, standing with the sudden sure power of intent. He walked forward to pluck the condom from Charles's mouth and use his free hand to draw him up for a kiss. A deep, biting kiss, one that startled Charles with its passion, and he fell into it willingly. In that moment he let the wave of intimacy break over him. Kissing was perhaps his favorite part of it all, and so rarely was it this rewarding, alluring.

Erik hitched up Charles's open shirt to grasp his waist, picking him up with the ease of a circus strongman, setting him down in front of the window on the other side of the room. It wasn't floor-length, but it was wide and tall, low enough that Charles's torso would brush it. The gauze curtains were mostly ornamental, and would barely obscure their shadows in their intimate play. Erik was busy behind them, making a noise of annoyance as he had trouble with the condom wrapper.

"Need help, love?" Charles said, looking over his shoulder.

Erik frowned, so handsomely flushed. "No."

"All right then," Charles said, resting his elbows against the window now, putting one knee up on the storage chest beneath it. "Don't keep me waiting, though. The street needs its show."

Erik went still. That meant, Charles knew, that he was reluctant to make another step.

"Don't you want to show me off?" Charles asked, turning now, looking him up and down. Erik needed encouragement, clearly. "But I can understand, if you want me all for yourself. I don't mind that at all."

"You sound like a paid woman," Erik muttered, while Charles took the condom from his hands, and then from its wrapper without effort.

"I do like to hear myself talk," Charles said, kneeling on one knee now. He kissed the head of Erik's cock, as if in a brief farewell, and began to roll the condom over it.

"Much easier without all that extra skin," Charles commented, taking Erik's hand and tugging him towards the wall. "I wonder what it'll feel like inside me."

Erik didn't reply to that, but he did take a quick hiccup of breath. This was what _flustered_ looked like on a stoic man, apparently. Charles placed Erik's hands on his waist, at the hem of his own briefs.

"Take these off for me," Charles said, stroking Erik's cheek. "I'd like you to touch me."

"Yes," Erik said. Instructions were working for him -- Charles could tell with the shift of his body, his expression hardening with concentration. "Extra skin, eh."

"We're uncivilized over here in the Isles," Charles said, kicking his briefs off. "Well?"

"Where?" Erik asked abruptly, raw. "Where do you --"

"My chest, my ass, my cock. A good itinerary, I think. And please, Erik -- don't be gentle."

Erik's breathing had sped up again as he looked down at Charles's bare body, covered now only with a loose, rucked white shirt. His palms searched Charles's chest, pushing roughly over Charles's nipples, pinching them. Charles's toes curled at the attention, putting his back against the wall. His hand curled under Erik's covered cock, stroking lightly to keep him hard. It was difficult to concentrate, though, while Erik's nails scored down his back, and when the man grabbed his ass finally Charles nearly folded at the knees.

"The tin," Charles said. "I want --" He swallowed, blinking at the ceiling as he tried to make sense out loud. "The tin -- your fingers. Work me up."

"Hmm." Erik reached out to the windowsill beside them, the tin crunching in his grip. The top went to the ground with a clink, and Erik slicked two fingers up, looking at them rather importantly, then at Charles.

"Don't be gentle?" he asked, tilting his head lightly.

"Don’t be.”

Erik pushed Charles further against the wall, his rear pulled from it just enough to give Erik's hands some room. His cock rubbed against Charles's stomach, his chest heaved. He probed Charles's cleft, then the entrance, two fingers circling. With each small dip and tease, Charles shivered, finding himself enthralled and impatient all at once. He gripped Erik's hair at the nape of his neck, leaning in to bite the man's collarbone.

"Get them in me, Erik," Charles said, teeth bared.

They pushed in; Charles forced himself to relax, groaning as the two fingers penetrated him, rocking his hips down. It hurt, that stretch without a bit more foreplay, but that was part of it for him.

"Fuck," Charles swore, hands bracing now on Erik's shoulder and nape, lifting up one leg to give him better access. "Oh, yes, Erik, good. Good --"

Erik was quiet save his panting, the few noises of effort as he finger-fucked Charles, nipping at Charles's wrists and arms, leaning in to kiss the side of his mouth, biting again, this time hard enough to nearly draw blood. They rocked against each other, and Charles felt he could do just this all night, but that, of course, was not where this was meant to go.

"Erik," he whispered. "Erik, stop."

Erik made a frustrated noise, but he did, his fingers still deep inside Charles.

"Take -- take your fingers out."

Erik obeyed, trembling with the effort to not burst with some kind of pent up frustration that had nothing to do with sex. Charles touched his face, thumbed the man's bobbing adam's apple, licking his own kiss-chapped lips.

"Erik."

"Yes?" The man's nostrils flared, his glassy pale eyes boring into Charles's gaze.

"Lift me up," Charles ordered, trailing a hand over Erik's mouth, "fuck me until you come, and don't you dare be gentle."

Erik made a noise like a boar rounding on the hunt. He picked Charles up at the rear with one hand and crushed him against the wall. When he buried himself in Charles, he made a noise like pain, his great shoulders rolling inward. Charles moaned, eyes rolling in his head. He was reduced to incoherence within moments, Erik thrusting in erratically, Charles's untouched erection rubbing raw between them. There were no more orders, because he'd already given them. Charles briefly thought, as his mind broke apart nearing climax, that he should be relishing this too.

"Please,” Erik asked, to a question Charles hadn’t posed yet. He'd moved them towards the dresser, and it shook as he braced Charles against it to free up one of his hands. He grabbed at Charles's cock, artlessly tugging at the foreskin, pinching it, and that was nearly enough to have Charles come right then. "Please --"

Charles tried to make sense of it, Erik's pleas, and so close to release he caressed the surface of Erik's mind. German in dialect, hardly anything Charles could speak. But he knew fear of failure, fear of unknown, even in this heated moment. Waiting for something to happen, outside his own will. Not just permission.

 _I can handle that_. Charles curled upwards with his own feat of strength, legs latching around Erik's back.

"Do it, Erik," Charles whispered, biting Erik's earlobe. "Come in me. _Do it._ ”

Erik shuddered, full-body, the noise accompanying it a helpless moan. His pace picked up with a few heavy slaps, then three long, lingering thrusts before he buried in for the final act. He still had his hand around Charles's cock and as he was finishing, he squeezed it near to bruising, a thumb scoring the slit, beneath the head, and that was enough to pull Charles over. There was a dizzying burst of white, that tense twisting of stomach sinew and straining legs, and Erik collapsed over Charles on the dresser.

"Ow," Charles said, after he came back to his body. "Ooh, owch."

"What?" Erik asked, blinking dumbly at him. He was the kind of man made inert by sex, clearly. At least he had the stamina to stay somewhat upright. "Are --"

"Damn thing is digging into my back," Charles said, and Erik looked between them, baffled as to how that was happening. "No, the dresser! The -- your -- _that’s_ just fine."

"I should --" Erik muttered, and with a wince from them both, he pulled out. Detached properly, Erik picked Charles up without asking, clutching him at his back before setting him on the bed.

They took a few stumbling minutes to clean up. There was a sink and bathroom attached, and Erik brought in a wet cloth to wipe Charles down. Charles relished being pampered, presenting his limbs with great exaggeration. Erik smiled at him when he was finished, a very honest thing, small and warm.

"You're dangerous," Erik said.

"How's that, now?"

"I don't normally --" Erik began, and shook his head, thinking better of it. He stood to toss the towel in the sink, grabbing at their briefs. "Just that I'm not used to being fucked stupid the _other_ way around."

"That certainly wasn’t _stupid_ ," Charles said, very slowly, as if Erik did need grave assistance, "I just took you by surprise. My, you just haven't had active partners, have you?"

Erik's nose twitched. A wince, maybe. Charles had hit home with something, but Erik recovered before Charles could open his mouth to smooth everything over.

"At least, no one like you," Erik said, passing Charles his briefs. Charles pulled them on, wiggling on the bed to do so and not in a come-hither way, but the squirm of a man with jelly for bones.

"I think I am a unique individual," Charles said, putting his hands behind his head. "I'm glad to pass muster."

"Yes," Erik said, smiling at him. "I suppose you could be no less, considering you're a mutant and all."

"Well, so are you," Charles said, wiggling his toes. "We are two of a kind."

"Which reminds me," Erik said, "I'm surprised you'd show me yours so utterly."

"What of mine?" Charles laughed, pushing at Erik when the other man lowered himself on the bed. "Oh, you mean my mutation. Is my five o’clock shadow that poor? I should've shaved closer before I left home."

Erik was back to being that calm creature he'd been in the bar, if with less of an edge of danger than before. Now it was curiosity, mixed with something that Charles wasn't able to define.

"No," he said smoothly, reaching out to touch Charles's sweat-frayed hair. "Not that mutation. The other one."

Charles's laughter was self-conscious, now. He tensed. "What other one?"

"I know I'm quite vigorous," Erik murmured, leaning close to Charles now. "I expected you'd make plenty of noise, when we got up here."

"Well, yes --" Charles began, before Erik shook his head.

"What I didn't expect --" and here Erik smiled, "was to hear you in my head."

Charles’s eyes grew so wide they stung.

“I,” Charles said, then shut his mouth again, skin thrilling with a mixture of embarrassment and fear.

"It's a 'crazy cool' trick," Erik said, watching from the edge of the bed while Charles abruptly began limping around, picking up their strewn clothes to make sure they didn't wrinkle terribly.

"It is, quite." The room was tidied, expending much of Charles's remaining energy and spiked nerves. Erik's post-coital attitude was much more in running with the man Charles had met in the bar, and not the vaguely bewildered man who hadn't been prepared for the way Charles crawled all over him less than half an hour ago.

"I should take it as a compliment towards my performance," Erik said, reclining, legs slightly spread out as he watched Charles work. His slumbering cock wasn't quite covered by the sheet, almost artfully exposed on the man's lightly haired thigh.

"Yes, well -- it was --" Charles watched Erik shift in the bedclothes and made a noise of distress. "Honestly! Put it away."

"Where will it go?" Erik said, blinking with idle interest. "It's already had the best accommodations in the house, hasn't it?"

Charles threw an old-fashioned nightshirt in the man's face.

"What's this, now? I've already got a shirt."

"The landlord provides them to the renters," he explained. "He knows most men don't show up with a suitcase."

"Most of the time, I suppose," Erik looked around. "But I did, remember?"

"Oh." Charles caught the shirt as Erik threw it back at him. "Well -- I didn't. Do you want me to --"

"Wear it," Erik said.

Charles looked at it, unfolding it. It was a cotton blend, and rather wrinkled now. It went down well past his buttocks like a proper maid's shift, made for someone Erik's height and not his.

"Turn around, please," Erik said, waving a hand. When Charles had made a full turn, he saw pleased color on the other man's face.

"Those are going to leave some bruises," he commented, curious. "Won't be able to show off for other blokes for a while, will you?"

"I don't generally make it a habit of getting buggered by different men every night, Erik," Charles said. "You saw most of the boys in the bar. I'm picky."

"You could have fooled me." Erik stood, going to the coat rack for his luggage while extracting his cigarettes from his jacket pocket. "What a mouth on you. You'd make a sailor blush."

Charles's mouth itched for the cigarette, but he had to wait while Erik finished unpacking his sleepwear. He decided to watch every movement that Erik made, which were both graceful and impossibly lewd until he got on a tight pair of white longjohns and a henley. Then he was graceful and tantalizingly wrapped up in tight fabric, still rather distracting to behold as Erik went to open the window to let the smoke out.

"Come on then," Erik said, gesturing.

Charles walked to him, feeling a little _too_ precious in the long shirt, cuffing it with his fingers as it fell past his palms. He sat on the chest beneath the windowsill, waiting for Erik to light his cigarette, and then reclined with one elbow out. Erik watched him, and Charles allowed himself an indulgence, to touch Erik's mind, to see how he saw him.

The dialect again. The impression of Charles's freckled shoulder, the memory of bitten flesh. A contrast of white milk in a saucer, and the deep pink of forest flowers, _ist schön._ A bit of a funny image, of a porcelain doll with a flouncy dress, and Charles laughed to himself, releasing the train of thought.

"What," Erik asked, looking down at where Charles was tucked. "What are you about now?"

"You think I look silly," Charles admitted, drawing a leg up.

"You do," Erik said, brow twitching, mildly disapproving.

"Don't worry, it's only -- surface thoughts, nothing deeper."

"You can do more than just that, then?" Erik adjusted his posture, resting his left arm against the half-open windowpane while he ashed his cigarette against the sill. "Speak, and listen?"

"Not -- yes, I can do more," Charles said, darting his eyes to the street, taking a deep drag of his cigarette. "I don't use it against people, unless you're trying to _kill_ me, I suppose."

"Not yet, anyway. You do know my secret,” Erik said, with enough levity than Charles thought it was mostly a joke. Mostly. More than once he’d seem wary of Charles’s insistence on the mutant subject, and though beautiful it was clear he was dangerous, but Charles was too exhausted to consider that issue further.

"We should rest soon," Charles said, then yawning so wide he almost inhaled his cigarette. "Oh, excuse me."

Erik covered his reciprocal yawn, chuckling. "Well, _darling_ , if you're already that tired..."

"I am," Charles said, flushing. "And so are you, you were knocked silly. You're the one who thought your cock was so big it was hurting my _back._ "

"It _isn't t_ hat big?" Erik said, with that same deadpan smugness, and Charles kicked at one of Erik's knees, but couldn't quite stop himself from smiling.

They arranged themselves and went right to sleep, or at least, Charles did. If Erik ended up being just as menacing as he had the capacity to be, at least Charles would’ve been well-fucked and well-rested. Raven wouldn’t fault him for going out like that.

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT 7/31: I tried to make sure condoms were wrapped time-appropriately -- some were in tins and some were in paper wrappers! No foil yet. I strive for porn with timely accuracy! (Er, for the most part.)
> 
> I know that Vaseline isn't considered the best lube now, but it was one of the popular ones in the late 50's/early 60's. Also, conscientious condom usage! (And you'll have to forgive Charles for not noticing Erik's tattoo... he was a bit distracted. ;)
> 
> This was just me wanting to write a little bit of "meet-cute PWP" outside of my general AU for the X-Men/Marvelverse. :) Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you'd like to check out my tumblr, you can find me [here!](http://tselina.tumblr.com/)


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